I know that all of your ex-girlfriends are "psychos". I'veheard all about them since hardly a day goes by that you don't makesome eye-rolling reference to "that crazy bitch" who practicallyruined your life and then went off and married some successful"douche bag", leaving you to troll local college bars in search ofno-strings-attached ass, while she enjoys quiet weekends at homewith her in-laws in Connecticut. That selfish cunt.

I know that you don't think I could ever be as good of a "psychoex" as she was, but, I assure you, I can! I'll be such a ravinglunatic nutcase, you won't even remember her when I'm throughwith you. Try me.

For starters: I am great in bed. Isn't that how all the "crazy"ones start out? You'll meet me at some party through some friend ofa friend of a friend who knows I have "wacko" potential but whowill fail to mention this to the chain of people through whom weare introduced, because...quite frankly, our friends don't reallycare enough about either of us to keep our best interests in mind.Or, alternatively, they *do* have our best interests in mind, butknow that our dramatic personalities and overwhelming egos areforces too powerful for even the most friendly, logical advice.Thus, they abort all attempts to keep us apart and allow us to getdrunk and grope each other publicly, shaking their heads all thewhile, because...this shit is gonna blow up big time.

Meanwhile, we'll already be upstairs, half undressed, where you'llbe too drunk to censor yourself so you'll make overly generousblubbering commentary about how "sexy" I am (as I knock into atable lamp with swan-like grace).You'll also rave on and on abouthow I have the greatest tits you've ever seen, and am "fuckingamazing" on all other fronts (as if I didn't know). Compared to thefour other chicks you've banged, this will be the best sex of yourlife. As soon as we're done, you'll start forming a mental list ofwhich buddies you're going to text message first about this, whileat the same time wondering if you could possibly spend the rest ofyour life with me.

In the sobering light of morning, you'll forget that you wanted tospend the rest of your life with me and instead opt for a "twonight stand", but you'll quickly realize that I am having none ofthat and somehow weasel my way into staying over, cookingbreakfast, and reading your newspaper. I will also haveconveniently brought my toothbrush and some sanitary products whichI quickly store in your bathroom cabinets since "I'm going tobe spending a lot of time at your place". Your Maxim magazines willgo from the top of the toilet to the bottom of the wastebasket,because I find them "offensive" and "immature".

Later that day, you'll log into Facebook and see that I'm "in arelationship"...with you! YAY! At first, you'll think it's creepy,but then (due to your inferiority complex), you'll take it as acompliment and change your relationship status, too.

Within an hour, you'll receive 78 new notifications whichindicate that I've commented on every photo in your album in whichyou appear with an unidentified female. Your relationships withthese family members, college friends, and co-workers will quicklydisintegrate as you mistake my obsession for passion and declareyour undying commitment to me and stop returning other people'scalls.

Friends will caution you, but you will be too blinded by mymind-blowing fellatio technique to notice anything. Besides, I'veexplained that they're just jealous of our love. Together, our poorself images will have us each convinced that the other is cheating.We'll fight about it non stop. All the time.

On our "good days" we'll shower each other with gifts and sexualfavors, and the accusatory banter will be minimal-though stillprevalent.

Things will be going "pretty well" for a while, until one nightyour phone battery dies and you fall asleep early - forcing me intoan incoherent panic. Six unreturned voice mails and textmessages will lead me to believe only the worst - you ARE cheatingon me! To confirm my suspicions, I will immediately log into allyour personal accounts (since you are so technologically oblivious,you left your passwords saved on my computer), and find a messageto be mad about. It will likely be a harmless flirtation from aplatonic friend who lives six states away that pushes me over theedge.

Unable to reach her or you, I will scramble into my car and drivebarefoot to your apartment where I will ride up on the curb,knocking over an unsuspecting potted plant. The commotion outsidewill rouse you from your slumber, and you'll stumble bleary eyed tothe window just in time to see me throw the car into reverse andplow into your beloved Hyundai Elantra.

In short order, the police will come, I will cry, you will shout,your landlord will evict you, and your insurance company will dropyou. On the bright side, our names will be forever emblazonedtogether on a county police report.

Despite all this, it will take another several months for you tocome to your senses and break up with me. Knowing that I am aticking bomb, you will execute this in the kindest, most reasonableway possible. You will make every effort to lift my spirits byexplaining that "it's not you, it's me", and "I deserve someonebetter".

All of this, to no avail. The only way you can truly be rid of meis to change your phone number and move across the country, whereyou'll make new friends and find a new insecure girlfriend toemotionally abuse for months until she finally reaches herpsychological breaking point and throws a wine glass at you,storming from the restaurant.

Everyone will be looking at you, dripping in Pinot Noir with anastonished look on your face. In your head, you'll be thinking,"Ha. That was nothing. You should see my Huyndai Elantra."

And, that, is why I'll be the best psycho ex-girlfriend you've everhad.

As the steady honks continued, the people in the parking lot glanced around to see where the obnoxious car alarm was coming from. Soon, they realized that there was no alarm. It was just me; sitting there in my locked car, honking away and wondering what these people did to deserve something like this.

I’m really good at

Existing on a plane of awesome that's well beyond any spectrum you can possibly comprehend.

The first things people usually notice about me

I look like that one girl, from that one thing. You know, that girl? From that thing?

Responses to my past speculations."I will always love you!" (No you won't)"If our band makes it big, we have to stay friends." (Not an issue)"I can't wait til they get divorced." (Still waiting)"Friends forever!" (What was her name?)"I will never have a boring job again." (HA HA sigh)

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

We are terrible for each other, and yes, we are a disaster.But tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane, or a burning building.

I'd rather die terrified than live forever.

I have a secret crush on Timmy but don't tell anyone.

lol jk Ta is one the for me!

You should message me if

You aren't just looking for a one night stand.I will tear you down and make you cry if you message me for random sex.